Psychosomatics
by Redderhead
Summary: Reunion Fic - Very soppy Johnlock. What if Sherlock, too, gained a psychosomatic limp from missing John? Rated T.


_Just another idea I had bouncing around my more-or-less empty brain! Please enjoy this one – took me seven hours to write!_

_Hope it relieves some Reichenbach tension! As usual my lovelies, I own nothing and unfortunately no one._

_Psychosomatics_

John was frustrated at himself for taking so long to get down the stairs of 221B. With each step he cursed the cane and his right leg equally.

It was stupid. Of course he knew it was a psychosomatic limp. Of course he knew _why_ it was affecting his right leg this time instead of his left, and yet, he still couldn't shake it.

The absence of his good friend and fantastic colleague, Sherlock Holmes was the reason for everything going wrong lately.

Ever since the Consulting Detective sized hole in John's life had appeared that day at Bart's Hospital; John had not been able to walk without his canes' assistance; a physical manifestation of grief, loss and horror.

John allowed a small smile to tug at his lips as he imagined what Sherlock would say if he were to see him now. Probably something along the lines of; 'Do not be dull, John'.

John finally reached the doorstep with a heavy sigh; he called out to Mrs Hudson but did not await a reply before closing the large wooden door behind him and stepping out onto the street.

Deciding not to go that far today as his muscles ached from compensating for his 'bad' leg, John limped his way to Speedy's Café.

Landing heavily on a plastic chair beside the window, John smiled weakly up at the owner who had come along to assist the doctor.

"Coffee and scone please" John said lightly, squinting as he looked out of the window to the people walking past hastily.

The beverage and snack did not take long to prepare obviously; as the duo arrived on John's table in less than two minutes.

The café was empty apart from John, not surprising really considering it was mid morning on a Monday.

Once the scone had been consumed, John cupped his coffee reassuringly as he scouted through the windows, trying in vain to read people like his friend used to do.

Before long, one individual caught John's eye in particular; the man was tall, he had dark hair, a brown trench coat over a pair of dark jeans and black shirt. He looked a little lost as he sat on a doorstep across the street.

Eventually, the tall stranger got to his feet rather gingerly and to John's surprise, produced a wooden walking stick from behind him. The gentleman hobbled across the street in much a fashion like John had and entered the café.

John looked away quickly as the tall man made eye contact with the doctor.

"Ah, John" the stranger said in a familiar tone of speech.

John's head snapped up immediately to stare at the man in shock.

"Coffee, black, two sugars" he ordered firmly as he turned his back to John in order to collar his beverage.

"W-what?" John stammered as he stared up at the stranger.

"I acquired this limp because of you, damn thing. Can't seem to shake it and I'm holding you personally responsible, Doctor" The tall man said with a smirk.

It took John little more than a minute to recognise his dishevelled and rather deceased friend.

"Sh-Sherlock?" John stuttered.

"Yes, well done, John, you remembered me" Sherlock said sarcastically as he grabbed his coffee mug and took to the seat opposite the soldier with a flamboyant swish of his coat.

"Now, I need your help." Sherlock stated with a bent elbow resting on the table and an elegant hand gracing his lips in thought as he looked out of the window furtively.

It was a millisecond or two before the consulting detective heard the inevitable thud of a Dr Watson sized object hitting the tiled flooring of the café.

"Ah" Sherlock said as he tilted sideways to look at the unconscious doctor. "Too much, too soon?" the consulting detective asked looking behind him to the owner who nodded affirmatively in exasperation.

John awoke several minutes later to find himself sitting back in his café chair with fresh tea and scones gracing their table. Slowly, his eyes travelled over the man that was leaning over him, he felt those cold, yet elegant hands frame his face in an attempt to wake him from his faint. Allowing his own eyes to take in the bright grey eyes and sharp features of his dead friends face; John felt completely at ease for the first time since the detective had left him.

"Sherlock" John whispered as he raised a hand to Sherlock's cheekbone in disbelief.

"Don't make this any more emotional than it has to be John, I beg you" Sherlock implored with a dull tone.

"But, Sherlock…you're dead. I buried you" John stated in shock as if he had done something wrong.

"Long story, John, but it may amuse you to hear that I did not die and you most certainly didn't bury me" Sherlock stated matter-of-factly.

John blinked a couple of times as he watched Sherlock limp back to his seat opposite him with aid from his stick.

"Amuse?" John repeated incredulously.

"Wrong word choice?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Very wrong word choice" John snapped angrily.

"Surprise, then" Sherlock adjusted as he removed his brown coat, placing it over the back of his plastic chair.

"Surprise indeed" John muttered darkly.

"Right, John, I need you to be my bait this afternoon, are you free? Oh silly me, of course you are. You haven't worked in a little over a month." Sherlock said as he looked down at John's woollen appearance.

"Hang on" John all but shouted. "I am doing nothing until you tell me what the hell is going on" John said fiercely.

"I am alive and we are in Speedy's…is there really anything more to be brought up to date with?" Sherlock asked with raised eyebrows.

John stared at Sherlock in shock.

"Uh, your two year absence, your _death_?" John said incredulously.

"It was rather good wasn't it" Sherlock said proudly.

"Sherlock" John warned, he was surprised by how easily it rolled off the tongue after the man's two year non-existence.

The two men shared a smile before Sherlock launched into a deduction-like explanation for his absence.

"As usual, John, I was here to save the day. I didn't jump from the roof. That was a H.O.U.N.D. induced nightmare that unfortunately I administered to you. You actually saw Moriarty land on the pavement that day – a man that was already dead by the time he came into contact with the ground, creating all that unsightly strawberry jam." Sherlock stated, looking back out of the window as if he was delivering news of giant home-grown tomatoes. "I had to be free to cut down the remainder of Moriarty's web. You see, they were out for blood, John. The last part of the game was my head or yours, as much as I hate to admit it I am rather attached to yours, therefore it was mine that got the chop." Sherlock smiled toward the doctor fondly before continuing. "I managed to get them all caught without revealing myself to anyone, Molly knew and Ms Adler of course helped me, not to mention I will be owing Mycroft enough favours for the rest of my life, but it was worth it and it was rather rewarding." Suddenly, Sherlock's smile vanished from view. "As soon as I had managed to capture the last criminal mastermind of Moriarty's, this limp appeared. A physical manifestation of loss, pain and fear no doubt. No matter how much I told myself that I should let you move on with your life – before I saw you today – the stupid thing will still play dead." Sherlock said tapping his left leg under the table. "So, you see, I had no choice but to watch you for a while, see what you were up to and whether it was a good idea to re-introduce myself, as it happens, it only took twenty minutes to decide that we would be better off together rather than apart. I see that your limp has returned but in a different leg." Sherlock reeled off as he nodded toward the doctor.

"Yes, it started the week after you went" John said with some amusement.

"And it will disappear this afternoon if you are willing to help me" Sherlock said with a devious smile.

"Yes, of course I will – but I am not being bait." John said with the first laugh he had laughed in two years.

000

Later that day; when the evening sun was setting across the cement jungle that was London Town, Sherlock and John walked beside each other talking in an animated fashion about their latest case solved.

Each still held their walking sticks but neither were currently being used.

Reaching the door of 221B John turned to Sherlock with a serious expression lining his aging face.

"Sherlock, I really should talk to you about something" John attempted, looking at Sherlock's scarf rather than meeting his eye.

"If you are referring to the fact that I held your hand during the chase, it was purely to ensure you would keep up with me" Sherlock mused as he placed his walking stick against the railing and reached into his coat pocket for their door key.

"No, it – it wasn't about that-" John started again, tilting his head questioningly.

"If it's with regard to the fact that I pulled you toward me when I heard the gunshot…well, that was purely protective behaviour" Sherlock said dismissively whilst continuing to rummage in his coat pocket for the illusive keys.

John smirked now "No, it's not about that either" he said enjoying the guessing game.

"Possibly it is concerning the fact that I continued to hold you once Moran was pronounced dead?" Sherlock asked, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Hmm, no, it wasn't even about that" John replied with a full smile now.

"Where are these damn keys?" Sherlock shouted in frustration, finally pulling out the lining of his coat pocket to discover there was nothing in there.

"Bingo, it was about those" John said looking at the taller man with glee.

"What about them?" Sherlock asked in bemusement, stopping his coat pocket activities.

"They are currently hanging from your index finger on your right hand…which is in mine" John said slowly.

Sherlock froze as he stared at his shorter companion in shock; he looked down at their –sure enough- conjoined hands in awe to see that the doctor was quite right. The three keys glistened in the evening sunlight as they dangled freely from the key ring wrapped tightly around the detective's index finger.

"What's going on here, Sherlock" John asked quietly, his face remaining impassive.

Sherlock let go of John's hand as if it was on fire. "I'm – I'm sorry, John" Sherlock muttered, taking the keys quickly and almost throwing them into the door lock in an attempt to get inside.

John, to his own surprise, did not feel anything remotely linked to the disgust he thought he would feel in such a situation. In fact, he had simply held Sherlock's hand back because it felt comfortable, it felt normal and right.

Raising a hand to Sherlock's shoulder, the soldier turned the detective to face him once more.

"Don't be sorry" John said gently as he pulled Sherlock toward him in a light embrace, his cane clattering to the floor behind them.

Sherlock felt shock, cramps, sickness and nervousness in the few milliseconds that held them in stasis when they joined in a hug on the empty street in the centre of London.

Shakily, Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's back and held him tightly, not daring to move any further.

John smiled as he buried his nose in the crook of his friend's neck, the overwhelming urge overtaking any reason he may have had for doing so. As he inhaled the minty - cinnamon combination that was Sherlock Holmes; the doctor felt safe, warm and _necessary_.

"I tried not to, John. I tried, I'm sorry, I failed." Sherlock mumbled into the fur lined hood of John's green coat.

"Tried what, Sherlock?" John asked gently, his voice muffled as he spoke into Sherlock's scarf.

"Not to love you" Sherlock said quietly, tightening his eyelids at the sound of his own embarrassing words.

John tightened his hold on Sherlock's shoulder blades as he raised his head slightly, placing his temple to Sherlock high cheekbone.

"Don't you dare try that again" John said gently, his eyes still closed, enjoying the sensations around him.

"All that time away…I couldn't…I _can't_ function without you, John" Sherlock said, laying his head slightly to the side to maximise their face to face contact. "Damn you, with your punctuality, reliability, strength and your ever trusty aim…I am completely and utterly, yours" Sherlock finished slowly as though only just realising this himself.

John tightened his grip yet further on the detective, quickly coming to his own conclusions.

"I realised you were my lifeline in that taxi as I followed the mephone application on your laptop." John said slowly, raising one hand to cup the back of the detectives' head "I knew I held you in peculiar regard when I took a shot at the cab driver that tried to kill you." John continued, turning his head slightly to run his nose against the taller man's cheek. "I knew I loved you from the moment you jumped" John finished in a broken whisper.

Sherlock pulled away slightly at John's words; opening his damp eyes, he scanned John's face as the soldier remained in place. After a moment of their joined breaths escaping in puffs of steam, Sherlock tilted his head slightly and that was all it took for the two pairs of lips to meet.

John recognised immediately that Sherlock was a novice in this area and so he led the way gently; catching the detective's bottom lip between his in a reassuring manner.

Opening his eyes slightly, John saw that Sherlock's remained open as they kissed.

The doctor pulled away a fraction of an inch and whispered against the detectives' lips.

"Stop cataloguing" John teased.

"I'm not…I can't…I need more data" Sherlock whispered back before moving back in for another soft lipped dance with the soldier.

A wolf whistle reached their ears as a car drove past them on the street, the men broke apart to look and spied a taxi full of teenage girls smiling at them and cheering. John smiled back to them and tried to wave as Sherlock pulled him in through the door of 221B by a fistful of coat.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson said weakly as the two men made it inside their hallway.

"Mrs Hudson" Sherlock sighed heavily as he causally reached out to catch her as she fainted.

"This is going to happen a lot isn't it?" Sherlock asked John.

"Yep" John answered with a smile, quickly helping Sherlock lift their kindly landlady and carry her up the stair case to their own living room.

Without so much as a word; John set about lighting the living room fire and Sherlock boiled the kettle for tea.

A little over ten minutes later, Sherlock held out John's favourite mug for the doctor to take. As their fingers brushed lightly, Sherlock's gaze intensified and John reached up to kiss the detective lightly in thanks.

Sherlock broke away only for a second to place the hot tea on the coffee table before he took full advantage of empty hands; kissing the doctor passionately in front of their living room fire, his slender fingers had worked their way under the back of John's jumper before they heard Mrs Hudson give a soft groan from the couch.

Ripping apart, John looked guiltily toward their landlady, shocked that he had forgotten her presence. Sherlock pretended to be ignorant with only a slight pink blossoming his cheeks.

Mrs Hudson opened her eyes to see the two men sheepishly looking toward her.

"Sherlock, is that really you?" Mrs Hudson asked lightly, her facial expression displaying incredulous belief.

Sherlock smiled toward John before turning to Mrs Hudson and sitting upon their coffee table to be eye level with her.

"Yes, yes, I am really here" Sherlock said gently as John poured a cup of tea for her.

00

After another fast explanation for his absence, Mrs Hudson took to the staircase, claiming that she needed to take her evening soothers and that she would catch up properly with her 'boys' the following morning.

Sherlock kept his eyes trained on the door until it clicked closed into the doorframe, by that time his head snapped in the direction of his flatmate to see a look of pure lust written on every inch of him.

They didn't communicate at all as they leapt toward each other in a fierce frenzy of lips and hands.

It was just as Sherlock's right hand had grasped a fistful of John's blonde hair and his left a pound of flesh from the doctor's hind quarters that his mobile phone started to ring.

Growling slightly, Sherlock reluctantly removed his right hand and mouth from the soldier in order to answer it.

"Sherlock Holmes" Sherlock said slightly breathlessly as John moved his mouth to the detectives' neck.

"No I have not been running" Sherlock snapped down the phone making John stop his administrations and look up at the angry face of his friend with concern.

"Mycroft, everything went well, yes. Moran was caught and Lestrade took care of him." Sherlock said with a growl.

John raised his hands to Sherlock's neck and tilted the detectives' head forward in order to rest his forehead against his. Sherlock smiled to John despite the phone call.

"Mycroft, I need to go. I don't care if it's a case that I want" Sherlock said forcefully.

John took step back and slackened his jaw almost comically as he dropped his hands to his side.

Sherlock lowered his phone and hung-up, furthermore he turned off the device and threw it down onto the couch.

"_I_ come _before _a _case_ of national security?" John asked incredulously.

"Is it worth my while, John?" Sherlock asked huskily as he advanced once more on the doctor.

"Oh, you've no idea" John replied with a smirk as he grasped Sherlock's shirt sleeve and walked at a rather fast pace to get to the consulting detective's bedroom, tugging the taller man in behind him.

Walking past the black painted door of 221B with an amused smirk written across his traditionally English features; Mycroft Holmes retrieved the forgotten walking stick from its resting place against the black railings and bent almost double to grasp the cold metal of the NHS cane that lay abandoned on the paving stones.

With a quick glance up at the dark windows of his younger brother's flat, Mycroft smiled. Perhaps he didn't have to be concerned about his ward anymore, perhaps the Army Doctor had relieved The British Government of his duty after all.

The End


End file.
